


smokes fade out

by snyders



Category: Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Balcony Scene, Fakedeep, Finger Sucking, M/M, Miscommunication, Smoking, Terminal Illness, rooftop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snyders/pseuds/snyders
Summary: Ukyo watched as white swirls of smoke hovers into thin air.Spiraling, intertwining, dancing slowly in a mercurial harmony.But despite how Ukyo would just want the show to last, to stare at the utter beauty forever, he's slap by the harsh truth that soon, the smokes will start to fade out, turning translucent, then gradually vanishing into pure transparency.And much like the smoke, Stanley will too.
Relationships: Stanley Snyder/Saionji Ukyou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	smokes fade out

**Author's Note:**

> here's to the 3L/oser/s

There is no limit as to how a boy can wonder.

A child's mind can be boundless as a body of water. Their developing brains laced with curiousity, filled with limitless questions ranging from: _are fairytales true?_ or _how are babies born?_ Veiled with pure naivety a child naturally has.

Maybe Ukyo Saionji is one of them.

Blue waters glinting like diamonds in the deepest minery reflects to a pair of clear crystal green eyes brimming with youth, fresh and far from riping into maturation. 

But even if that is the case, Ukyo Saionji, at four years of age, sitting on their living room's tuft velvet sapphire sofa, forearms atop the pricey furniture and tucked under the chin of his face, resting and observing the creature that is swimming inside the glass of box like it was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen, knew for a fact, that _nobody_ could suffice to his overflowing questions.

With sensitive sharp ears accompanying him, he had gotten to pick up clues about his surroundings without having to look around. 

It all sounds so vivid. A mushy noise overlapping, that for Ukyo, is admittedly bearable in their lonely, huge premise. 

And if Ukyo listens closely, he can clearly hear the huge antique wall clock which— he can tell in his years of staying in their never-changing home—, was located between two sets of painting, ticking in every beat of seconds passing by. From across the room, he can make out an image of his father that was busily talking over the phone while flipping through a ton of stacked papers above his oak desk. Faint steps that are supposed to be barely audible to the human ears are approaching, coming from their butler with a tray filled with treats and freshly-baked cookies perched on his arm.

Ukyo can basically taste the sweetness of the goods by the scent it is emitting that seems to tickle his nose. 

The butler suddenly appears on his sight, settling the tray down atop the small coffee table just in front of him with careful hands. As what a butler's hands should be, and then leaving. 

_Of course,_ Ukyo does not miss the smile that etched its way into the butler's face in a futile attempt of nicety and the way it quickly fell off as soon as he turned on his heel and vanished out of Ukyo's sight.

It was not a first.

The same scene has happened before, with Ukyo in the same setting, in almost the same sitting position, observing the same creature. And the butler would appear as usual, with the same consistent ease as pulling out a mask, invisibly hidden underneath his suit and putting it on; playing a facade that Ukyo does not understand why should it be a need.

Ukyo has his own wonders, has his own hunger in _wanting_ to know. But as young as he may be, all brooding thoughts were tucked away upon the fact that anybody can make it a deceitful weapon against him.

Returning his attention back to where it was fixated a few minutes ago, he watches the lone fish, of yellow gold, orange and red scales, swimming inside the blues of the aquarium. Inside were a replica of coral reefs, pebbles, shells that creates a model of the tiny creature's supposedly home in the ocean. 

Sometimes, the fleeting idea would ever so slightly cross Ukyo's mind. The idea of projecting himself unto the fish, and yet, he wanted to be a little less more like the tiny creature that is forever enclosed in the tiny box unless somebody compassionate enough sets it free back into the ocean. 

And Ukyo is not one to like stalling behind and wait for that somebody.

So by the time Ukyo stepped foot in his first year of highschool, he seized the chance to break free from the box that caged him for years and found himself sitting on his own desk in the middle of an ordinary classroom. 

All kinds of noises then filled his ears: the uncontrollable chattering of his classmates, the screeching of metal chairs on floors producing squeaky sounds and the chaos that ensues inside their classroom with the absence of their period teacher might as well leave Ukyo's ears bleeding. 

In most days and inevitably dire situations like this, he would have his earphones prepared to stick on both of his ears with classical music playing, serving like a thin wall of glass that helps reduce the hot mass of needles poking on his eardrums. Unfortunately for him, it just happens that the device stopped working today. He noted that he will have to stop by a nearby shop to replace them on his way home.

With vexation stirring inside him like malfunctioning hotwires, his body moves without much thought. His feet were quick on its heel heading out of the room's door staking it all to where his steps could take him until he found himself standing at the bottom of a stairwell.

His steps pause to a halt. 

Brain whirring about his next move, he thought of heading back to his classroom for a moment, but then shook his head at the painful idea of having to endure an hour of buzzing noises sitting on his own desk while battling a discomfort beyond his classmates knowledge. 

_Maybe,_ that was simply the reason that had pushed Ukyo to take on the stairs. A dim path ahead.

Or was it _wonder_. A seed he had once planted within him and sprouting. Growing alongside him.

  
The thump of Ukyo's feet playing in a beat of rhythm echoes between the walls of the stairwell, and only did it stop when he reached the top. A door greets his sight. Old with age and made of wood. He noticed the door was agape, a narrow opening made way for a strip ray of light from outside signifying that somebody had entered past the door. 

And then there's that familiar wonder boiling down his gut. Ubiquity shrouding him whole.

He reached for the door. Pushing it wide open and in a flash, he was back on their living room, time warping into the past. The smell of nostalgia along with the familiar scent of oakwood overwhelmed his senses. 

His father's furios pacing resonated through the walls to the cream white of the ceiling and to the chandelier hanging from above. The crystal diamonds and glass ornaments hanging on the air creates an illusion on Ukyo's mind as if everything was shuddering, playing along with his father's anger.

It was a talk that had happened between him and his father before. Before Ukyo nestled himself far from the normalcy of life he used to have.

Ukyo, with both his hands linked behind his back, stands unflinching before his father who have been insisting already for half an hour about entering him to a well-known marine school where he can utilise his gift to be a sonar technician someday. 

But Ukyo has all the stubborness of a compressed rock. He was not one to yield before anybody. Especially to his father. And with every insistence of his father's proposal, he dismisses him with a formal, "I do not want that for myself, father." 

A resolve so strong that cannot be possibly shaken.

Like an unfinished symphony, the memory burned into a static and his body snap back to the present. 

Ukyo sees his palm already flat on the warm, ragged suface of the door and he gave it a delicate push. 

A light breeze is the first thing that greeted his face, feeling his skin being softly caressed between the wind. A gleeful smile tickles its way to Ukyo's features. And the calm blue of the sky that runs limitless, mimicking the color of the ocean, cloudless and beautiful, knocked the breath out of his mouth. 

He takes his time basking underneath it all. It was not long when he finally decided to step over the doorframe, concrete beneath his shoes. 

The direction of Ukyo's eyes sweeps over the place. A flat ground stretches underneath his feet then stops, as if he is suddenly on the top of a cliff, winded. 

_Except he isn't_. 

He is on the school's rooftop bound with nothing. A quick run straight to the edge means an instant death, and if you're lucky enough, a trip to the hospital will do. A crazy idea Ukyo almost consider on doing if not for the figure that he'd caught at the side of his eye.

_There_ , where the adjacent sides of the rooftop floor meets on one point, sitting at the edge as if almost asking for death, is a boy. A boy wearing a black uniform identitical to his. _A schoolmate,_ Ukyo thinks.

And Ukyo's feet moves, approaching the sitting figure. If the other boy hears the clacking of his shoes, he pretends not to notice. A display of disinterest very much fitting of his features now that Ukyo had gotten to reach his side, catching a glimpse of his side profile which accentuates his long lashes that will brush his florid cheeks if ever he does blink.

Ukyo settles down, taking a seat beside the other guy. Legs crossing, putting a mindful distance between the dangerous edge of the rooftop and himself. Ukyo breaks out into a cold sweat when he looked down below, a mistake he should've not done.

Accepting the grim fact that he will not be given any attention in a moment or two, Ukyo utilises the silence that hangs between them both by taking in the appearance of his company. 

Ukyo lets his eyes wander on the guy who has one leg dangling by the edge of the rooftop while he has the other propped up, serving as an armrest for his right arm or some sort. And if Ukyo looks even closely, the boy gives off a vibe similar of that to a professional model without even trying. Surely, with that stature, his foreign features, a handsome face, slicked back smooth blond hair, _lips that must taste of_ -

Hearing the rustle of fabric cuts off the thread of thoughts unspooling from Ukyo's mind as though it was suddenly being snipped by a scissor.

A hand pulling out a cigarette from beneath a school uniform made the red arm band wrapped over Ukyo's arm gains a little weight, reminding him that it has always been there. The urge to assert authority then surged through his veins and also perhaps, the opportunity to make himself be noticed opens right before his eyes; are the forces that drove him to reach for the cigarette that is stuck between pretty lips, so ready to be lit. And he snatched it successfully by his hand, snapping the stick into two, producing a satisfying crunch that is a treat for Ukyo's overly sensitive ears. 

That one bold action made Ukyo proudly grin, staring down at the wrecked cigarette right on his palm, the nicotine being blown by the wind on a hum. But then Ukyo looks up. He sees the other guy repeating the same motion earlier, reaching for another stick of cigarette. His slender elegant hand nestled the stick between his lips. Ukyo can hear the scratch of a lighter emitting a miniature fire.

This time, Ukyo made no move to stop him and waits.

Smoke sizzles. 

A storm was brewing.

And then a hand wound its way to the front of Ukyo's black uniform, creasing the fabric. Ukyo's whole body is being hauled by force to face the one responsible pulling him by his collar, leaving Ukyo no time to think or even hold his breath when a rich amount of smoke clouded his senses.

Pure white floats between the shy gap of faces.

Then a glitch of memory plays at the back of Ukyo's head as if clawing to be remembered. 

Scenes flashes and shuffles like cards on a casino table.

And then it rewinds and stops. 

A continuation of a memory unfolds and a voice— Ukyo recognized belongs to him, speaks with all the confidence that he can muster. Words, directed to his father, fully coated with conviction as if he has nothing to lose. 

"There's something to be found when you start from rock bottom, father." The statement made his father's face contort into annoyance, mouth readily open to retort, but Ukyo continued, "The ocean floor has the largest untapped collections of rare elements." He paused and looked directly on his father's eyes. It has the flicker of defeat, stunned to silence. Then Ukyo finished _"Let me venture them."_

Both Ukyo and his father knew he was not talking about the ocean. Or the sea. Or any bodies of water but it was a comparison: a mere presentation of the world. Always has been for Ukyo.

On a seabed where Ukyo is currently standing, has long been wandering, searching- he found Stanley Snyder.

Pellucid blue eyes emerged from the cotton of smoke in the process of fading out. They were of similar color to a glistening sea and Ukyo thought he caught a glimpse of coral reefs, a horde of fish swimming beyond the most beautiful eyes Ukyo has ever seen.

_That is,_ if it did not darken. 

If looks could pulverize, Ukyo is probably on the ground by now. 

Glaring blue eyes is the first display of emotion the man had shown him, at the same time granting Ukyo the front, full and close view of his drop-dead gorgeous features.

Ukyo had long forgotten that a kind of expression exists. He's used to seeing welcoming and smiling faces that greets him on the hallways of their school and in his own home. Faces that seems to admire him borne from his reputation of being in charge, of his personal background, of his title— of being a student council president.

He examines the expression once more, and he knows so well that it is not a fissure of a mask. There is none present to begin with. 

And Ukyo is more than a little astounded about that piece of information, rousing that all too familiar wonder within him.

𓂃

  
Rumors truly travel fast as the speed of light.

People are so quick to believe solely in the basis of hearsay. Not that, every single story being tossed around were all a lie, but Ukyo thinks people should stop treating personal lives as if they were valuable things to be meddled upon.

In a school clumped with students, it is inevitable for the school's isolationist and the body president to be the subject of gossip when the two of them had started interacting which is considered odd by the uninvited audience's eyes, giving them a taste of rarity.

Ukyo would have liked for Stanley and him to have their interaction strictly private, which has been the case that prolonged for a week since they first met.

The rooftop is a haven they created for themselves. 

From then onwards, before Ukyo knew it, he has started looking forward to hearing the school bell blaring on his ears; signifying for breaks, lunch and dismissal. 

And by the time Ukyo's flight of agony to reach the rooftop ends with him panting, pellet of sweats dripping upon the unnecessary exertion, he's greeted by the expanse of Stanley's back from a distance that has grown a sense of familiarity to Ukyo's heart. 

Ukyo will sit beside Stanley, a meter stretch of distance. Then an inch shorter by every completed rotation of the Earth on its axis. Then shorter and even _shorter_ , until there's not a space between them but a breath's distance.

And the sky, the sun setting, and the moon, the stars, and the smokes are witnesses of moments shared; of ramblings and half truths being exchanged and anything that can come close to handing a chunk of themselves to each other without giving away everything; of affections and touches and desire crawling, buzzing beneath skin and lips crashing. 

All this happening with celestial bodies blanketing over them.

But as if gigantic boulders of responsibility came crashing down atop Ukyo's head, it need not to be said that he has to skip days of going to the rooftop and meet Stanley even if he likes it or not. 

The duty of being a council member is not an easy feat especially when you're on the highest postion. Ukyo's desk is always slumped with paperworks and the stack just increases each day as projects and school events arrive one by one. 

He finds himself sighing inside the heated cramped council office. His sight coming out of focus on the glowing white of the screen and his hands stops moving along the keyboard as he can feel the strain that felt unbelievably uncomfortable. 

Every now and then, Ukyo's mind goes back to the memory of the kiss that sends his heart into an unexplainable turmoil. It had been a week since it happened. And him and Stanley haven't met and talk since then when work came streaming in, accompanying Ukyo with his lonely days, as if on cue _. A perfect distraction on a perfect timing_. 

But it does not help him with the fact that the table he's working on is located nearby the window, granting him a view of the rooftop from there. 

Some days he'd cast a glimpse towards the rooftop, of the sitting figure in his usual position and smoke dancing within his space. Ukyo is trying so hard to tone it down hoping nobody else in the room will take notice. 

This day, however, Ukyo's typing went slack against his keyboard when he sees the absence of a figure from there. And Ukyo almost screamed in pure shock, grabbing his laptop to slam on the said figure that appears right before the window in front of him. _Thank the gods_ Ukyo had gotten to cling on a single thread of his sanity before he resulted in doing something that will most likely put himself in embarassment.

Now the new problem lies along with Stanley's appearance.

Ukyo knows escape is not an option. He also could not just pretend he did not see him and carry on with his work. Without him noticing, the lump of yearning has already caved itself on Ukyo's throat which makes it extremely tempting to speak to him, to reach out and slide open the glass window that separates them— which is what he's currently doing and it earns him countless pair of watchful eyes, but Ukyo finds it within himself to not care.

It had been long since he stopped caring about anything else but the person facing him.

"What are you doing here?" Ukyo was the first to speak between them. A question that they know very well, is _rhetorical_. One that Stanley does not want to hear which explains the silence that drags on.

"Missed me?" Ukyo tried again and it earns him a twitch of lips along with the cigarette stucked between it. A reaction that made the pit of Ukyo's stomach simmer uncontrollably with excitement.

"Well, don't you feel the same?" Ukyo wanted to answer that _yes_ he does, he missed him so badly. And there's nothing more he wanted but to spend the rest of his time on their haven with Stanley.

But his exterior says nothing like that, pretending to dodge the bullet shot to him. But the truth is, it _did_ hit him. And quite severely too.

"Do you want something?" A question following after the other.

"I have something to show you," that made Ukyo's brow perks up in question and curiosity between the pause, "Come with me." 

Ukyo realized Stanley is not even asking. The overlying boldness in his tone made it across that he is so sure that Ukyo will follow him, _no doubt_. 

Stanley is so sure as if Ukyo can just abandon the ton of responsibilities currently on queu. He scoffs, smile stretching bitterly for two reasons: _one, because of Stanley_. And two, _because he could not come with Stanley right away_. Both reasons include Stanley and for that _reason_ comes the third one.

"Oh Stan, you're quiet the troublesome type," said Ukyo stretching his hand to reach for the window, sliding it shut so he can resume on working, fighting each bit of protest his body's screaming. "Sorry, your student body president could not attend to you right now." He gave him a quick smile, _unapologetic_.

But then Stanley's hand was on his, preventing Ukyo from completely avoiding him by setting a glass of wall between them. His face is suddenly closer to the frame of the window, almost getting past inside it. 

Maybe it was Stanley's quick reflex that had stopped him in the process of action or Ukyo's that is moving too slow on purpose as if seemingly waiting for this to happen. 

_A desperate, stupid yearning_.

"Well, Aren't you the same?"

"What."

"You spend your time on the rooftop quiet too much even when you know it's off limits for the students. There's also this stupid rule that does not allow one to smoke within the school's perimeter and yet, you let me get away with it even when you have the chance and position to tell authorities?" Stanley said this all in one breath, with his deep voice that contrasts his pretty face, on a modulated volume that had the other members mouth in the council office fall wide open upon the sudden revelation. 

Ukyo's reputation taking the hit. _Great_.

Stanley pulls out his lighter from his pocket, lighting up the stick between his lips and taking his sweet time too. 

"Isn't it necessary to read the entirety of the school's handbook, huh, _Mr. student body president_."

Ukyo wanted nothing more but punch the smirk away sitting handsomely on Stanley's face.

𓂃

Ukyo had always been good in waiting, years of experience and unyielding patience thick as the earth's mantle put his tolerance in a great height. Having dealt with waiting made Ukyo's spite on it double its thickness. Although Ukyo is good at it, he does not like any part of it.

For a moment's worth, Ukyo wore his patience thick: _patience_ for his duty to come to an end, waiting _patiently_ for the bus to arrive and _patience_ to finally reach their destination and have Stanley Snyder on his choke hold.

Under the flickering lamp post of a dimly lit narrow alley stand's Ukyo with both of his hands pinning Stanley on the alley wall.

"What are you getting agitated for?" said Stanley, but made no move to resist the clenching fists on his shirt. His face bored and stunning under the limelight that Ukyo should not find attractive in such state.

" _Bastard_ ," was the only thing that left his mouth before unlatching his hands from Stanley then walking off. 

"It's only fair that they know about it."

"You are in no place to say that." Ukyo says in an almost whisper, halting his steps in the process.

"I just want to tell them the truth," Ukyo's blood boils at that and he stills as Stanley continues, "You despise masquerade parties so bad and yet, it turns out you're one of the attendees too."

_Pathetic_. Stanley seems to say knowing that none of the words he even uttered was a lie, but for what reason and purpose is it for?

"Then what more do you ask from the person who only ever discard his guise before you?"

Ukyo knows Stanley has an answer but proceeds on pretending to be meek, lighting his cigarette sitting limply between his lips, instead. Eyes grounding.

𓂃 

_Come with me_.

Is what Stanley had asked of him the other day. It was beyond Ukyo's expectation for Stanley to bring him to where he _stays_ and of course with that light unsolved bickering stalling them behind. Ukyo understands how Stanley refused to say _home_ , instead.

At first, Ukyo bore suspicion when Stanley brought him on a rundown apartment, the appearance seemingly ancient and crumbling if exaggerated. The building is located in a secluded area with no sign of other living soul nearby besides the cawing crows perched on hanging electric wires, cats straying around the garbage dumps and of course, _Stanley and him_ standing side by side.

Upon entering the said building, it was the stairwell at the end of the corridor that Ukyo's sight zoomed in, that took his focus as if staring through a vignette. It reminded him of the stairwell he'd found and never knew that a one step flight would put his life on a trip.

Ukyo and Stanley were three floors up passing through a hallway of doors lining up, obviously unoccupied judging by the wreck state it is in. On some doors, the knobs are missing and others have none at all. Past those doorframes are just plain hollow darkness. 

Their steps are the only thing that can be heard, Ukyo finds it unexpectedly soothing. The sound, _that_ _is_ and Stanley beside him walking made him feel safe for the weirdest reason.

Stanley opens the door by a flick of his wrist, inserting the key then twisting. Stan held the door for Ukyo to enter first, then he follows. Where there was once darkness, brightness ensues by a flourescent light illuminating the entire room all at once.

His eyes glide over the peeling white paint of the room with the scent of dust and musk engulfing the space. The kitchen and the dining table were cramped in one small space. But not that small for a person who isn't even utilizing the area— atleast, if Ukyo were to trust his eyes. 

Stanley let Ukyo observe the place as he heads for the tattered divan, settling his bag on it. In front was a sliding glass door, that opens to a balcony. The railings were of color orange-brown, rusty brought by age.

Ukyo thought of Stanley standing there, seeing through the glass door in his mind. The figure looking immaculately beautiful with a cigarette stick between his knuckles, his mouth billowing a huge puff of white smoke after multiple succession of exhales from a long drag he just did. 

Like flinching from a sound of a twig snapping, he continues scanning the room pretending as if he wasn't enthralled by the mental image of a man in the very same room as with him in a flash of few seconds.

On the opposite side of where the counter is, was a recess section of the room where a mattress can be find just half the size of Ukyo's own. Blanket and pillows reside there, looking cozy. 

For what seems a few minutes feels like hours of Ukyo looking for any material to have it under his scrutiny just to give himself something to do until there's nothing left. It is not a good idea to diverge himself from the feelings dangerously threatening to conquer his being. Because this is Stanley showing him another piece of puzzle of himself without Ukyo asking for it. And because there's something in someone who can show you the jagged edges of themselves than have people lay out everything before you with nothing but coated by sugary fabrication.

Ukyo's heart feels as if another beat will make his heart leap out of his chest like how a rocket would, but instead, it was the jangle of metal to another that was sent flying towards him. If not for his sharp ears that had picked up the sound, he might not know if he was able to catch it just in time. He mentally applauded his reflex for that.

Stanley looks at him with bored eyes, concealing the anticipation for a reaction coming from Ukyo. For a moment, Ukyo thought he had seen and felt it lingers but did not think much of it when the cold metal that kisses his skin cuffed his attention to it.

"What is this?" 

Ukyo have eyes and knows what it is of course, the metal, shape and surface identical to what Stanley had used in opening the door that belongs to this room explains much. But the statement is nothing but just the surface of the dozen questions Ukyo was meaning to ask but couldn't find the right words to with his chest pounding, still in a daze not believing of what Stanley had just given to him.

"It's what you think it is," the twitch on the side of Stanley's lips is a massive giveaway that Ukyo's response pleases him. Then he turns away, lying back down on the divan.

That night, when Ukyo headed home, he held the newly acquired jagged piece of secret close to his chest.  


  
The stars and moon are his only witness.

𓂃

Ukyo has literally no idea what had brought him before Stanley's doorstep. The key on his palm feels like as if it weighs a ton, tempting him lovingly to barge inside by just the use of it. 

He lost count of how many times he had spun on his heels, turning around thinking of getting back home, and then facing the door again. _Repeat_.

Taking a deep breath knowing his contemplation will bring him nothing, he musters up the courage to raise his hand into a fist. He knocks, knuckles meeting the door three times. It was the only sound that fills the hallway. 

He waits for Stanley to open it. _One_ , _two, three_ seconds have passed but nothing. 

It was then that Ukyo decided to use the key. After all, Stanley had said, _It is what it is._ A conclusion made its way to Ukyo's brain to interpret it as he wants. _So he did_.

When Ukyo enters the room, he expected to be greeted by a pair of blue eyes, hoping that Stanley is just inside lying on the divan and can't be bothered enough to have a five steps trip towards the door. But when he entered, there's nothing inside, just radio silence and the wall staring back at him. 

Alone in the room that bathe in the sunlight filtered by the glass door coming from the balcony, he stood there feeling like the four-sided room was closing in to him. He stands there silent, realizing the space is lived and at the same time void of life.

There is nothing.

So Ukyo turns on his heels, closes the door behind him with both body and expression dejected.

Ukyo is two blocks away from the bus stop, hands buried deep on his pockets, body slouched, formed by childish disdain while walking through the sidewalk. Only did it snap upright upon seeing a huge marquee on a store. Letters on it seemingly dancing in neon lights bright in the living daylights forming a word Ukyo cannot read. It hurts his eyes, but he enters the store anyways, an idea sprouting in his brain as the second-hand scent of the items beckons him on its wake. 

An hour later, he walks out of the store, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. He stares at his wallet that had gone unbelievably light than before he entered the store

Not in a literal sense.

So here is Ukyo Saionji leaning his side on the kitchen counter of the apartment that is certainly not his, waiting for something he'd put in his newly bought oven while he observes the area with others and many more newly bought items that now fills the former empty space that he'd garner from that retail store. 

_No_ , Ukyo has not experienced shopping even once in his life before meeting Stanley. He never had a reason to and the things and devices he's using were already prepared for him, handled perfectly by their home butler.

Today was his first, and he thinks it's nice. The lady who owns the store was kind and opengoing guiding him through the different section of items earlier. She gave him some insights and offers that led him to buying things. _A lot of things_.

Ukyo settles the tray of treat that is now on the peak of its form from the oven letting it cool on the counter in a couple of minutes or two at the same time Stanley emerged from the shower. 

They had not spoken to each other today yet. Earlier, when Ukyo just finished shopping and got to Stanley's apartment after a trip of agonizing minutes through the flight of stairs while carrying the numerous items he just bought, Stanley wasn't still there. Ukyo only have two hands to carry them all and a limited stamina that comes with being a human. If not for the kind driver of the truck he'd rented for easy transport of those things from the store he'd purchase from, no doubt it will take him a week to bring them to the room all by himself.

When he was setting the hammock on the balcony in the middle of the afternoon heat after arranging the room by putting a cabinet into the empty space, he heard the knob of a door twitching from the outside then followed by the sound of it creaking open. Then steps careful and familiar follows, that knows where the floorboards creak and where it doesn't confirmed that it was Stanley after all. 

Ukyo willed his heart to beat normally upon Stanley's arrival not meeting his eyes while passing through the glass door of the balcony. Even when Stanley had settled himself to the pristine-looking divan that was no longer tattered, Ukyo pretended to pat down the _Romanian folk seamless pattern ornaments_ carpet on the living room that had piqued Ukyo's attention in the store. Stan's eyes feels like poking a dozen of questions about the state of his apartment from where Ukyo was crouching down smoothing the edges that does not even need tending. 

Only did his pulse halts as if stepping on the brakes of a car running on full speed. His heart went numb, for a split second, when Stanley stood up, then walks away. Ukyo hears a door opens then closes and then the sound of the shower being turned on. The sound of water calming him as if he was the one under them instead.

And now Stanley is in front of him. An image purely intoxicating is before him, like a painting that will last for a millennia, even so, its beauty will remain, still.

"When I gave you the key, I did not mean for-," Stanley's eyes slides over the area slowly, and meets Ukyo's eyes momentarily, "-for you to do this, going overboard." 

Ukyo can't pinpoint the meaning behind Stanley's words, or the emotion beneath it. All he knows is that, there's nothing such distaste towards what he'd done. If anything, with no precise accuracy, it comes close to gratification. His heart leaps and soar at the unspoken acknowledgement.

"Oh, don't think about it too much. This is merely an act of compassion," he pauses when one of Stanley's brows quirk at that, then he added without thinking, "Besides, it's nothing my wallet can't handle."

The words slip out of his mouth, smooth, in a tone he did not intend to sound. Because now, he may have came out as a bratty, rich, priveleged brat to Stanley. And maybe he broke the sincere air that was thickly coating the atmosphere that was once there and Ukyo fanned them away unintentionally. 

Ukyo can feel himself burning up, the shame rising makes him want to bury himself six feet under but the only gate of escape on arm's length is turning around. And it's a stupid move because it is granting easy access for Stanley to take notice of his ears that must've gone a deep shade of red by now. Ukyo can imagine the smirk forming its way to Stanley's mouth, although he cannot see it.

Everything is a ticking time bomb to Ukyo, finding himself utterly disarmed- _but no longer_ when he saw hope on the treats he'd bake minutes ago. This might be enough, he thought to himself. He sighed, picking one up from the tray that had cooled down, then he turns swiftly, if not clumsy. 

" _Sweetmeat_?"

He said cheerily, offering the food on his outstretched hand, hoping its caramel glaze is enough to diverge Stanley's attention from the former thing he'd said. _But no_ — Stanley never spare the treat a glance, his full attention is on Ukyo alone. And even if one of his hand moves, his fingers wrapping itself on Ukyo's forearms which connects to the hand stretching out, not once did Stanley leave his eyes for a blink or for a breath

"Rich people are insufferable."

"I belong in the middle class," he corrected instantly, and though it is the truth, it doesn't the change the fact how irrelevant of an information it was. _He knows_.

"Still insufferable," a two word phrase passes through lips laced with a chuckle. Ukyo knows that too, _that he is_ , for Stanley.

Then the hand wrapped on Ukyo's forearm glides towards his wrist. The touch light and warm. A grip that can twist his wrist any moment Stanley wants to with the way his body had entirely gone slack and quiver under the touch, but it was something else Stanley is twisting without even doing anything. And he was a thousand steps behind before it registers what Stanley was about to do.

Stanley's palm moves from his wrists towards his hand, enclosing to the one holding out the treat. And Ukyo is powerless as Stanley pulls it towards the direction of his face— towards _his mouth_. He stands unmoving unable to suppress the tremble of his hand that is on Stanley's. Ukyo can only have his mouth part when Stanley ate the treat straight from his fingers, closing his eyes as if its the most pleasing thing he had ever tasted. 

Ukyo's heart crash on his ribs painfully.

What once was a slight scratch of teeth on his fingers was replaced by tongue, swiveling dangerously on his thumb and forefinger, then escalating to both teeth and tongue ravishing each five of his fingers.

The sensation has him gripping at the edge of the counter behind him, his teeth digs on his lower lip until it is close to bleeding crimson as he watches Stanley's lips wrap his fingers. He does it as if he knows how he looks like: _sophisticatingly beautiful._ He made it across the want and greed through his eyes that defy's everything, that can get whatever he wants and Ukyo before different circumstances will submit. _Anyone will_ , to Stanley, but Ukyo _wants_ — wants to be the only one Stanley ever wants to submit before him. 

And Stanley _stops_. Time stops, speeds up, then warps and it was everything that was too much and too big to take for Ukyo. And at that moment he was overcame with desire as Stanley stands upright, casting a shadow emphasizing the difference of their size.

It made Ukyo notice the little things. That Stanley had just gone out of the shower, and he smells of mint and a slight hint of tobacco that will never leave Stanley like it was an extension of his body; _a tail_. That Stanley has his hair still wet, the light locks framing his face gorgeously. That Stanley is half naked, the muscles taut and toned, flexing and unflexing _; a sight Ukyo will never get tired of._ That the towel wrapped around his waist is hanging too low. And Ukyo's body was responding to the desire's calling, and maybe so is Stanley's. Because now Stanley's knees were pressing up against his legs and he fence Ukyo in against the counter as both of his hands held Ukyo's face between them. 

_Bodies burn and fuse._

Stanley leans down to claim a pair of lips under his mercy but Ukyo met him halfway for the kiss, incapable of hiding his impatience. Amidst the lips crashing and teeth cackling, Ukyo felt a pair of hands impale itself on either sides of his waist lifting him off the ground. When Ukyo was momentarily midair they used the pause to catch their breath, gasping for air, and sees themselves mirror each other's state: disheveled.

Stanley wasted no time, placing himself between the space of Ukyo's legs when his ass landed above the counter. 

Like how the treat did, Ukyo melts on Stanley's mouth.

𓂃

If Ukyo was to describe Stanley, he'd use the word: _enigma_. Stanley Snyder is an enigma— the very existence of their relationship, _in fact_ , is a whole enigma.

Mysterious as it may seem, the unspoken truth dripping from their eyes; patience and understanding clear comes with reassurance.

Still, on the back of Ukyo's mind, with all sorts of newness that spiraled along with Stanley's appearance in his life, he remains curios about what standards should be met for a _thing_ to be called a _relationship_. He refrains himself from poking Stanley for unambivalent answers knowing that he'd only get the usual passively stoic, _It is what it is_ , in turn. Confirmation should not matter to Ukyo the same way it doesn't to Stanley. And if Stanley wrung off the doubts that tinge Ukyo's heart, then what will change?

_Nothing will_. And Ukyo does not want anything altered. 

Like how they act like Illicit lovers: Stanley snatching him away from the council's office to kiss him senseless on the hallway, Stanley right outside his homeroom door ready to haul him towards the rooftop but ended up not making it all the way as Ukyo's back was shoved against the stairway wall; impatient mouth ravishing his, Stanley kissing him subtly on the forehead while standing on a crowded train, Stanley fucking him against the balcony of his apartment away from prying eyes. It sends shivers of inexplicable thrill to his roots.

But isn't that what they are? Each other's own secret.

Ukyo's eyes travel to the arms that wove their way around his torso, tightly. The blankets in disarray and bodies naked, huddled together on a bed; half less the size of Ukyo's and half less lonelier, lies the evidence of intimacy shared between needing bodies the former night. 

There could be nothing else Ukyo would trade for the sight that dusts his face with a smile everytime. Bright locks golden with the rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains of their balcony, Stanley lies on their bed. His face emanates fragile beauty with the absence of his frown and smirk that taints his face— that he had gotten used of wearing. 

_Ukyo wants nothing to change_ , he thought to himself selfishly; as if stopping evolution is as easy as halting a rolling ball's momentum.

They were each other's own secret; each other's own secret who have yet to know about one another. It is not a surprise for Ukyo, but if he has to wait— _yet again_ , wait for something to peel off on itself, he would. 

_Waiting_ is what he's good at, for what he knows is that life is like a running sand on an oval glass receptacles, joined by a narrow neck. 

_Alas_ , not all lives could be a sandglass that once the upper section empties out, you can just flip it over and it restarts. Soon, time will pass. _Soon_ , the upper section will be emptied out. A sad truth that'll earn a satisfaction knowing that it had flowed slowly, like few particles at a time. _Enough time_.

And for some, the pull of gravity is too strong like it holds all the world's grudge against you; the flow quickens. Enough then, is nothing but a word written in lead, on a thin paper inside a glass bottle dropped and forever buried in the lowest point of Marianas' Trench.

𓂃

There's a sense of urgency with Stanley's kisses. 

Fire heigtening as though it would reach the heavens is similar of that to Stanley's touch. It is not that Ukyo cannot keep up with Stanley's pace, but he feels like there's nothing he can do or stir for the other to share him the burden of merely knowing. It might be because Stanley knew even if he tells Ukyo about it, matters will remain stagnant. Still, wonder coils down and simmers deep on his gut; _a disquieting thing_.

" _Stop_ ," Ukyo managed to croak out from the pleasure that wracks his brain, of the person who continues to rake his body as if there is a thick wall of glass muffling his desperate cry. Stanley's kisses and teeth digs deeper on his neck that will be a problem to cover up for tomorrow's classes. But Ukyo isn't worried about that, his worry is— 

_"I said stop it!"_ said Ukyo, his low voice was a hiss. It dawns on him that Stanley had stopped touching him not because he snapped out of it, but because of his palm flat on either sides of Stanley's naked chest that had pushed against it creating an arm's worth of gap. 

When he looks up, surprise was the emotion that takes over upon the expression never had once witnessed by Ukyo. Painted along the stars of Stanley's eyes, the vast of his blue eyes seems to say: _I'm sorry._ It repeats, bouncing along the cavernous walls of Ukyo's mind. 

Ukyo glides towards Stanley's direction. He takes Stanley's face between the warmth of his palm, their foreheads brushing each other in a loving gesture, Ukyo's eyes searching: _Tell me, Stan. Would it kill you to let me in just this once_? 

He's reciting it on his mind like a mantra but he thought he might've whispered it out loud when he heard a soft-spoken distant: _"It's nothing."_  


  
Ukyo thought the chilly air is the only thing that can make him curl up into a furl of ball that night; he never knew Stanley's words can, too. 

𓂃

It is not _nothing_.

_"Nothing"_ cannot be the word when it has been many nights where Stanley goes home late and Ukyo does not know where he'd gone from. He doesn't mutter a word for Ukyo's sake— or rather, he doesn't want Ukyo to know; so hellbent in carrying up the burden alone. 

Nothing will never be the word when Ukyo hears the sound of retching, terribly loud that comes from the comfort room where Stanley had gone scrambling straight to, unable to hold it in any longer. It hammers fear to Ukyo's blood, nailing him immovable and tense on the bed where he was pretending to sleep. When he feels a palm tracing his face, then a dip on the bed. It was frail, shaking and maybe— _maybe_ Ukyo had sense it echo his fear. He wanted nothing but to hold it between his, but he knows Stanley would not want to see him vulnerable like this. 

_Red_. Shades of red, deep, light, dark; whichever, Ukyo spite them all. So when he sees red stains on the cloth of Stanley's shirt when he was about to do the laundry, _red_ , on the tissues thrown in the thrashcan. _Red_. An unconsiderable amount of red. 

"Go home," Stanley had told him one night when he's carrying a mug of hot chocolate and it slips from his fingers hold. The crack did not even startle him when he heard it meet the floor. It was not the only thing he heard him break.

_This is my home, too._ He wants to say. 

Home is waking up to Stanley's face, immaculately beautiful in both sunny days and stormy ones, because Stanley Snyder will still look beautiful even living with a curse. Home is cooking meals he'd push himself to learn through a tutorial video on the kitchen counter that was rendered unused until he's come to change that. Home is staying up late in their balcony's hammock as Stanley and him are huddled close together under the stars that are barely visible. Home is away from the prying eyes of many: _on their secret_.

But as though it was just merely an image playing inside a bubble floating that Ukyo had kept of himself and Stanley, it is as if that bubble was pricked by a needle. _Popped_. The soapy liquid sprinkled its way to his eyes and it stings- _pain_.

Pain induced by truth. Truth was what before him. On the living room table. On the eligible writings on the prescription papers. On the bottles and packets of medication. Puzzles sprawled before him, but even if he doesn't fit the jagged pieces together, he can already see the image it forms. 

His palm closes on itself, the blood running cold but he can do nothing but wait. _Patience_. He wished to do anything but waiting. 

From where Stanley was sitting across him, on the carpet, he stands up, passing through the glass door of the balcony. His loose tank top ruffles as he headed towards the hammock, settling himself. The scratch of a lighter being turned on startled Ukyo from where he was sitting, cross-legged. And he follows Stanley, still in a state of haze.

For weeks, this was the first time they had spoken to each other without their bodies speaking ineffectively for means of communication. 

"I thought..." Ukyo trails off, opens his mouth and closing it shut, like how a fish would. He was standing in front of Stanley, who has one arm on the back of his head, his other arm has a cigarette between his hands wringing the ash on the tip of it for a brief moment. 

He doesn't met Ukyo's gaze, distant as ever, Stanley's gaze shoots through the horizon. It's so ironic how the sky paints itself a romantic shade of purple. Distaste spreads through his being making his insides revolt. And as if he does not feel terrible than he already is, white spreads on the space he is in. 

Ukyo watched as white swirls of smoke hovers into thin air. Spiraling, intertwining, dancing slowly in a mercurial harmony. But despite how Ukyo would just want the show to last, to stare at the utter beauty forever, he's slap by the harsh truth that soon, the smokes will start to fade out, turning translucent, then gradually vanishing into pure transparency.

And much like the smoke, Stanley will too.

  
"Did I miss to read the statement written that cigarette is actually prescribed to get you better?" Ukyo tried to sound sarcastic, but his voice turns out rough, gritting his teeth for the pain on his chest to hold it together. 

_"Yeah?"_ Stanley replies, taking a drag from his cigarette and resolving to a coughing fit right after. Ukyo scurries to his side, his hands finding its way to Stanley's back, doing something— _anything_ that could help.

Worried, is an understatement to describe what Ukyo is currently feeling.

_"Smoking after a lung cancer diagnosis impairs healing, reduces the efficacy of treatments, diminishes overall quality of life, and shortens it."_

It takes Ukyo by surprise to hear that from Stanley first thing right after struggling for breath, as if Ukyo wasn't washed by fear that one of those gasps might be Stanley's last. 

For what seems the longest time, he tries to process what Stanley had meant and it hits him. _He could laugh._ His palm met the skin of cheek that now had turned red. Stanley's right cheek that is now in a shade of red, deep as Ukyo's anger. _He could laugh._ But felt water filling his eyes to the brim instead. He's helpless against the torrent of dreadful emotions he wishes nothing of but to stop crashing as it wracks his body to painful sobs.

" _Am I not_ —" his voice cracks and tries again- he needs to say it, similar to how a lover would say: _How could you!_ "not enough reason for you to stay longer— " it was muffled between his sobs and palm making him think that it was of no use that Stanley did not hear it— but that does not seem the case when a slant of lips meet his.

The bitter taste of it will be missed and as Ukyo still has the time, no matter how little was left of it, he clung at the taste so he'll never forget. 

Ukyo remembers how much he loathes the smell of cigarette, the smoke that smells of death. But Ukyo was so good at tolerating the bitter taste whenever Stanley kisses him until he was no longer tolerating but accepting. Welcoming each of Stanley's bitter kisses that it was the only thing he can taste of, he resigned himself to Stanley's memoir for him. 

At the hand that crept up on the back of his neck, pulling him closer; of habit, of its own accord, Ukyo's mouth parted as Stanley swallows every last bit of his greed.

𓂃

As if the weather is conspiring with his mood today, Ukyo woke up to the loud stream of heavy rain against their roof in the middle of summer in the month of June. Eyelids, half close and heavy from sleep, he swung his arms voluntarily, expecting to find a body beside him to seek for warmth, but instead, it was an empty cold sheet that met his skin making him jolt completely awake. 

Ukyo rubs his eyes, a spike of worry strikes within. It has been many months since he found out about Stanley's diagnosis: months since he started to fix his his attention on Stanley tenfold, months since the last time his father had taken notice of his businesses and reprimanded him. 

Something flashes under his lids as his father's voice drowns him back to a memory. 

"Never thought you'd be such a disgrace to this family. Opening up your legs to an unknown man?," it sent an icy rage of anger through his veins. "If anybody finds out about the rumors, people will think, we, _Saionjis_ ', are lowlifes," Ukyo didn't miss the bite of his father's tone as he slams his hands on the table.

He was stoned to anger by the very insult addressed to Stanley to even retort. " _Here_ ," his father tossed a brown envelope towards him. He caught it and opened it only to find out that what it contains is a person's profile making the impression to be studied, questioning himself, _for what?_

  
"He's attractive. Close enough to that man of yours— _lover_ , or whoever, and he has the same color of hair. _And most importantl_ y, Ukyo," his father rounds the table so he's now in front of him. Close. Both hands planted on his shoulders as if emphasizing what he was about to say, " _he's rich_. You'll marry him after— " everything became inaudible to his ears right after, "— how much longer is he going to live until he dies, again?"

_Again_.

The thing is his father had known. Probably he had sent one of his minions to tail after him and have them study Stanley's background. Ukyo's mind goes back to what Stanley had said about rich people being insufferable. _He is not wrong_.

There was no excuse of him to be one inconsiderate piece of shit. 

Ukyo already made his way to the balcony, the wind making him fold unto himself as the pattering of rain sounds louder on his ears than when he was still inside. 

"Hey," he said softly as Stanley rocks the hammock lightly, with the absence of cigarette. He was reminded of that one time he caught him smoking in the same situation and threatened Stanley that if he were to catch him again, he will not hesitate to swallow the burning stick that sits between Stanley's knuckles even if he knows the fact that it'll cause him to pass away way before Stanley will. 

He stares at Stanley. His body is frail, his shoulders hunched, the bags that used to not exist before had now etched itself under Stanley's eyes. It was dark and hollowed. Even with that worn out face, Stanley remains relentlessly beautiful and knows that he is tired but _Ukyo_ — Ukyo does not want to part just yet, even if that means clinging to a weak bone of hope. Even if it causes both pain and destruction; he can be selfish like that.

Stanley gazes back at him, eyes beckoning him to be by his side. He settles himself carefully on the hammock besides Stanley, then scooting over fitting Stanley's head snugly right under his chin. 

"What are you thinking?" he speaks for something to fill the bleak silence. 

_"If I'm no longer— "_ Ukyo cuts him off by a sharp hiss as soon as he started speaking. They already made a promise to never open the topic about that. If anything, Stan just loves to tease him if the soft wheezes coming from him are anything to go by. Ukyo can see him smirking if Stanley still has the energy left of him to.

His eyes casted down upon the realization. 

"Ukyo, _listen_ ," the air then turned more serious, casting a mortifying aura Ukyo had experienced several times and never does he want to experience again. Stanley continues, "When I'm finally— _finally_ gone..." and the rest were drowned out by Ukyo's mind, willing himself to not listen. _No. No. Stop it. You don't have to say anything. Please Sta_ \- only those thoughts were cut off when he felt the pain of his scalp being stretched with faintly strong fingers then soothing them when Ukyo's attention was wholly on Stanley alone.

_"Listen to me,"_ they were fierce eyes; similar from when he had first caught a glimpse of it and reeled him in to the depths of blues back on their school's rooftop. And they were high schoolers again. 

"Soon, I have to go. That's the truth we have to face and can do nothing about."

_I want to do something about it_ , he thinks and realized when he met those eyes that Stanley had long gone past the point he never dares to cross: _acceptance_. And Stanley just stays for Ukyo's sake, pushing himself for the other side to not take him just yet, for his hand to lock themselves on Ukyo's. 

_For the solace he found on a tangle of limbs to not go away just yet._

He trembles as he feels the absence of Stanley's usual warmth. His light flickers and Ukyo fears it might be put off completely.

He still feels terrified even if he can already see it coming on a distance.

" _Even so_ , promise me to not fear to venture other oceans," he said that with a smile, and Ukyo had known what it meant. And Ukyo hates how the smile is clouded by his tears. _Hates_ how he'll have to carve it on his mind— on his heart so that it'll never cease to exist. 

"You— _you_ were too kind for me," He felt Stanley's other hand caressed his cheek, then felt a kiss dusting one of his eyes and he was so— _so_ endeared by the feel of it that his heart clenches at that, with the refusal to believe that, _yes_ , this is goodbye. What else can it possibly be?

"I'm glad I found you."

_I'm glad I found you too_ , he replies in his heart.

There were choke of breaths he has no idea whether if it comes from Stanley or him because now, he can see the tears that stains Stanley's eyes. Tears Ukyo is seeing for the first time and last. _Tears_ borne out of sorrow and gratitude. 

  
"You deserve someone who can build you a ship and sail you across the sea—," he paused as he clears his throat, struggling to spill the words out without it coming out shaking, "—across the Pacific, Atlantic, Mediterrenean," he kisses Ukyo's hand after saying every word as if leaving traces, and Ukyo wants him to stop already, that he understands despite the need to hear his voice just a little bit more before— _before the smoke fades away._

"You deserve to see the ocean beyond someone else's eyes."

And it blares on his ears. It echoes until it was the only thing he hears and then— _nothingness_ , as if he was back on their manor, deep in the pool where sound cannot reach him. The surface an impenetrable protection of his. It helps him calm his nerves, but this situation is different. It does not help him calm down at all and for the first time in his years of spiting his sensitive ears, he wishes for nothing but to pick up the tiniest of sounds that had gone absent— even just to pick up the faint sound of a pulse beating that signifies _life_.

Ukyo badly wants to claw out of his skin at the fact that he did not even caught Stanley's eyes closing, or the hand that locks itself onto his starts losing its grip. He gathers Stanley's light and lifeless body into his arms hoping that he hears him breathe, pressing his ears against the center of Stanley's chest. 

Ukyo was sobbing. He's shedding tears and choking in between the wracks of sorrow that squeezes his lungs. But despite that, there's still silence and nothing else. 

The entirety of him numbs. 

It is as if the whole world has been muted, _but the rainfall does not stop on the backdrop_. 

**Author's Note:**

> what do i do without metaphors
> 
> find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nanamiukyo?s=09)
> 
> and the founder of this ship, hani, made a glamorous [fanart](https://twitter.com/matahanee/status/1293804558028689409?s=19) of smokes fade out😭✨check it out along with her other amazing dcst fanworks.


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